


Beautiful Pain

by BadWolf303



Series: Beautiful Permanence [1]
Category: NCIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:05:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolf303/pseuds/BadWolf303
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziva lost a brother. Kate lost Gibbs. It really didn’t surprise her that they ended up tangled and naked and sweaty in her bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



> -for making me ponder how to make Ziva and Kate work to my liking.

She took one bullet for him, but it wasn’t enough, and in her self-deprecating spiral that came afterwards, she reasoned it away as par for the course. She never was enough, was she? Not in the way she wanted to be. The glimpses in his eyes that said _I’m proud_ or _you impress me_ were just that – glimpses.

No chance for anything more. End of chapter, end of story. Book closed.

In the weeks that came after, she’s not sure who she was angrier with, him or herself, for keeping the status quo at “almost” or “maybe.” She grieved him like a lover, even though she never earned that right, and the what-ifs could drown a person faster than the bourbon she stole from his basement.

She spent a week there, sleeping and drinking under his boat, until Ari finally showed face. He knew where to find her, which made her hate Ari even more – because it wasn’t like she ever saw his boat while he was still alive, so why should Ari assume she’d see it now? 

He was right though. As far as terrorists go, she has to admit he was a pretty good one, would at least give him an A+ in Terrorizing Special Agent Caitlin Todd 101. 

She would have shot him herself if the bourbon didn’t hit her, first. Wouldn’t have minded if he shot her back. She wanted him dead, would have died right along with him _for Country_ and _for Gibbs_.

Ari would have died but would have won. Would have destroyed her – _did_ destroy her – and take her future away along with the potential that she and Gibbs never got to explore.

But Ziva came. 

Ziva came and shot Ari in the head just like he shot Gibbs on that rooftop. Ziva came and saved Kate and killed her half-brother, and something burned in Kate’s stomach when her eyes met Ziva’s, when Ziva took a moment to look at Ari and let her eyes fill with tears before locking it down and taking out a phone to make the proper calls. Kate watched Ziva move, watched the raw vulnerability she allowed herself only moments of. There was a beautiful pain in Ziva’s face, in her eyes, that Kate recognized and had fallen in love with once before; the same beautiful pain as those ice blue eyes that Kate never got to learn the reasons for. 

Together they leaned against the skeleton of the unfairly unfinished boat waiting for the dust to settle around them, as agents from a number of different agencies asked questions and came for the body and disappeared into the night as if the emotional turmoil wasn’t something they dared think about, let alone be concerned with. 

They were left alone together in a basement that belonged to neither of them. 

Ziva lost a brother. 

Kate lost Gibbs. 

It really didn’t surprise her that they ended up tangled and naked and sweaty, coming hard with heart wrenching sobs in her bed. 

What surprised her came after. Came from Ziva not disappearing back to Israel nothing more than a memory of the fallout, but instead becoming – director’s orders – part of her team. What surprised her came from the fact that it became _her team_ at all, that Tony and Tim and Ziva were supposed to trust her to lead, to fill the enormous shoes left behind by a man she always knew was human, but still felt more like a legend to everyone who worked behind those orange walls. 

What surprised her was how Tony stepped up, as both an agent and a best friend. How he made sure she took care of herself so she could take care of their team. That he understood without having to talk about _those_ things –about Gibbs and the hole he left in her heart – but that he made her talk about the others, made her talk about the good memories Gibbs left behind. Tony and Tim both grew in those weeks that came after, in ways she’s not sure they would have so quickly and seamlessly had they not been traumatized by what had happened. And Ziva did her part and fit right in. 

It surprised her that their team did not fall apart. They became stronger, better. And it surprised her that it did not feel like a betrayal, but the best way to honor the legend, their boss, the man she could have loved forever.

But it didn’t stop hurting. His desk, now hers, still smelled like him. His bottle of bourbon, now empty, still sat in a cabinet in her apartment. And when she was working on paperwork for too long and needed to stretch and avert her eyes, instead of catching Gibbs’ from across their desks, she caught Ziva’s. 

Ziva, who steps up for their team, who she’s grown to trust with all their lives. Who Kate has laughed with over Tony’s awful jokes, who Kate has teamed up with to play pranks on both their boys. Who she cautiously invited out for drinks with her and Abby, though turned them down anyway. 

Who shot her brother and held her trembling, sweating body that night flush against her own. 

They don’t discuss it, haven’t spent any time alone together for longer than minutes since. The Kate and Ziva of that night aren’t the people she wants to associate either of them with now, not now that she’s healing, that they’re all healing. The Kate of that night would have died, would have swallowed both the bourbon and a bullet, but somehow ended up swallowing Ziva’s cries of pleasure instead. 

The more Kate reconciles her past with Gibbs, the more she comes to terms with their great loss, the more she finds herself contemplating Ziva. She regrets that night – not Ziva, but the way they fell into bed, the fact that Ziva saw her at her lowest in every intimate way. 

Kate is always the last to leave. She takes her job, her replacement of Gibbs, very seriously. Still, after death, she wants nothing more than to earn his unwavering approval, needs to know that she did him proud.

Ziva stays longer tonight. They’re both illuminated only by the small lamps on their desk, both hazy with the dim warm light bouncing off orange walls. Ziva’s hair falls down around her in a curly mass, a mane suitable for any lioness, and Kate remembers like it was yesterday just how feline she can be. 

Ziva tucks a strand behind her ear, but it doesn’t stay there, too wild to be tamed. It covers Ziva’s face from view, and something inside Kate is saying _stop looking at her, get back to work, don’t forget rule 12 and Gibbs and Ari and and and  
_

_Gibbs would have liked Ziva.  
_

It’s a weird thought, and it comes out of nowhere.  
  
“Kate? Are you all right?” 

She realizes with a start that she’s staring at the floor space of Ziva’s desk, her old desk and old floor space, where once upon a time she pretended to still be asleep as Gibbs smoothed out the jacket she used as a blanket when they – she – stayed close to protect him. 

“I’m exhausted. You must be too, Ziva. Come on, we’re closing up. Paperwork will still be here tomorrow.”  
  
Kate stands, can feel Ziva’s eyes on her, can feel the concern and tries to ignore it. Instead, she packs her belongings and after a brief pause she hears Ziva follow suit. They both move to leave the enclosed space of their desks at the same time, and they both laugh as they try to maneuver around one another. 

When they reach the elevator, and Kate reaches to press the button, they stand shoulder to shoulder to wait.  
  
It reminds Kate, oddly, of that night against Gibbs’ unfinished boat, when they stood and waited for the agencies to clear and their lives, once again, to begin.

The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and when Kate moves to enter, a strong hand grabs her arm and pulls her back. Ziva holds tight, and when Kate looks at her with a question in her eyes, Ziva says nothing. The elevator doors close. Kate reaches out to once again push the button. She hesitates, turns back to face Ziva. 

And then they’re kissing.  
  
It isn’t their first kiss. Kate hopes to God it has the potential not to be their last.

When they pull apart, Kate doesn’t open her eyes. She’s too afraid of what she’ll see when she does – if she’ll see Ari or Gibbs or that night. Of the baggage they packed when they slept together after Ari’s blood stained the floor of Gibbs’ basement. “There’s too much.” 

“No, Kate. There is not. There is just you, and there is just me.” 

“But—“ 

“Open your eyes, Kate.” 

It’s slow, but she does. Ziva stole her breath with a kiss, and she forgot how to once again find air in the moments that followed, but when Kate focuses on Ziva, focuses on her dark brown eyes and her mass of wild hair and the almost invisible hint of her smile…Kate realizes all she _sees_ is Ziva. And she breathes her in, deep, needing the air back in her lungs. She’s completely surrounded by her. Not the rest of it, not right now.

“I loved him.” The words spill from her mouth without permission, but almost as necessary as breathing.  
  
“I know.” 

“I used you that night.”  
  
“We used each other.” Ziva’s hands move to gently grasp Kate’s face. Her fingers are soft, softer than Kate remembers, as she brushes her thumbs against her cheeks. “But that was then. That was…” 

Ziva shivers. Kate wraps her hands around Ziva’s wrists, keeping Ziva’s palms steady against her skin. Ziva rests her forehead against Kate’s. “Did you trust me that night?” 

Kate’s eyes snap to Ziva’s that swirl with a dark intensity she knows is matched in her own. “You shot your brother to protect me.”  
  
“Do you trust me now?”

Even more now: “Yes.”

Ziva reaches to tuck a strand of Kate’s hair behind her ear, allows her fingers to rub against the curve of it before tugging softly on her earlobe and coming to rest on Kate’s neck. Kate steps closer into Ziva’s space, her hand hovering by Ziva’s hip.  
  
_There’s a rule against this_. Rule 12 spirals around her mind like a mantra, like a nightmare. 

But Rule 12 kept her and Gibbs in their stagnant orbit, floating around but never fully beside one another. And _damn_ that rule, damn his fears and her fears and the what-ifs and the potential. And maybe Kate is right – maybe there is too much hurt and pain and what-ifs to make this work. Maybe this will blow up in their faces and ruin the solid-strong team they’ve built. Maybe that night they spent together tainted them too much, maybe they were already too broken. Maybe there is a reason for Rule 12 after all.

But maybe Ziva is right, too. Maybe _they’re_ right – together.

Kate won’t let those fears hold her back a second time. If her love for Gibbs has taught her anything, it’s that you don’t always get another day to take the chance.

“Come home with me.” It’s a whisper that fills the entire empty office, as warm as the color of those orange walls and the smile that appears on Ziva’s face. 

Kate remembers the beautiful pain in Ziva’s eyes those first night – remembers them now, as the elevator doors open and this time they both step inside, as simply beautiful.

The elevator doors close. A new chapter opens


End file.
